Trials and Tribulations of a Time Lord :in love:
by roxiejh
Summary: Rose gets more than she bargains for when she asks for a holiday. A lot more. Will the Doctor’s increasing behaviour sort itself out in the end? TenRose.
1. Rest and Relaxation

**Date Published**: May 2nd, 2008  
**Title**: Trials and Tribulations of a Time Lord (in love)  
**Series**: Scattered Moments  
**Rating**: T  
**Characters**: Ten/Rose  
**Genre(s)**: Romance, fluff.  
**Summary**: Rose gets more than she bargains for when she asks for a holiday. A lot more. Will the Doctor's increasing behaviour sort itself out in the end?  
**Disclaimer**: The names, images and logos identifying the BBC and their products and services are subject to copyright, design rights and trade marks of the BBC. Used without permission for non-profit, non-commercial personal use.  
**Fic Type**: Multi-Chaptered. **WIP**.  
**Author's Note**: Inspired by two things. First, by a challenge at dwchallenges:** Take a fandom cliché that you absolutely hate and use it as the prompt to write a fic**. There are a lot of fandom clichés I hate, but I'm going to focus on two. 1. The Doctor and Rose end up somewhere with only one bed. 2. An aphrodisiac makes one of them act in ways they otherwise wouldn't. Second, for part of the 'scattered' series, which is a series of totally unconnected Doctor/Rose stories spawning from a one-word prompt.  
**Prompt**: Holiday, from myself. Feel free to give me one of your own to work with.  
**Excerpt**: _The Doctor fixed her with an interested gaze, then glanced back to the cottage. She could have a point, he supposed, if he really thought about it as a cottage rather than a perfectly nice get-away in the middle of Noxis, which was a holiday planet, nothing romantic in it in the slightest, and... oh, all right, domestic it was._

* * *

**Trials and Tribulations of a Time Lord (in love)**

One: Rest and Relaxation

**Holiday**_  
_noun  
_1. leisure time away from work devoted to rest or pleasure; _  
_2. a day on which work is suspended by law or custom._

"And to you, Rose Tyler, I present... Noxis."

The Doctor pulled the TARDIS doors open with emphatic vigour, a smug grin on his face. Rose had asked for a holiday, and a holiday they were going to get. Well, sort of: no rest for the wicked, and all that.

He strode out in front, before turning briefly to grin at Rose and catch her hand in his while they walked. The TARDIS doors clicked satisfyingly shut behind them, and the Doctor's grin widened. Good to be out and about again.

"Noxis?" Rose questioned from his side, and her hand tightened on his.

"Yup," he replied, popping the 'p' like he would a lollipop. "Noxis. Land of... well, not land of anything, really. It just sort of... sits here and gets on with things."

He had parked on the brow of a hill. Well, less like parking, more like 'placing for safe keeping', but it was on a hill nonetheless. The grass was a shockingly pale green, and a huge expanse of sky extended above them. Three moons loomed above them, silhouetted in the atmosphere; the largest was circled by huge discs. Ahead, on the horizon, atop a very steep hill surrounded with trees, was a castle, its turrets pointed towards the sky. Beside the Doctor and Rose ran a river, the sound gentle and relaxing. And, beyond that, a small wood, which cast its gentle shadow across the couple.

"And we're here because..." Rose prompted, grinning up at the Doctor. He looked down at her and smiled: he could already tell she loved this place, and quite right too.

"Because you asked for a holiday!" he explained. "Now, stop asking questions."

"But Doctor, how am I ever going to learn anything if I don't ask any questions?" Rose quipped, feigning innocence.

He all but rolled his eyes (Time Lords, of course, never roll their eyes). "All right, all right. What d'you want to know?"

She paused, as though seriously considering which question to ask first. "Are we really here for a holiday?"

"Yes!" He laughed. "I figured you were right; we've been doing an awful lot of running lately, and it would be good to get out and feel the breeze on our faces... and not from running. I've had quite enough of running for a while."

"So, this place... ideal for a holiday, then, yeah?" The Doctor couldn't be certain, but he thought Rose was probing to make sure he hadn't got anything wrong.

"Absolument," he answered reassuringly. Then he paused in his walking, causing Rose to stop and turn to him questioningly. The Doctor frowned. "Absolument?" he asked himself. "What was I thinking?"

He felt Rose pull on his hand. "Doctor?"

"Right!" He looked up to her and smiled. "Noxis. Wonderful place. Holiday planet, basically. Tourists come here to relax, enjoy the sights, take in the wonderful splendour of the surroundings. That sort of thing. The air here has more oxygen in it than Earth – might make you a bit giddy if you breathe too much. Other than that, it just makes you feel..."

"Lighter?" Rose suggested. "'Cause I am definitely feeling lighter. And kind of dizzy."

"That's the air, all right. Don't worry, your body will get used to it soon enough. It'll make you feel happier, healthier."

"Like being drugged?" Rose laughed as they continued walking. Then she pointed ahead of them excitedly, up to the castle on the horizon, whose turrets were twinkling invitingly down at them. "Doctor, is that where we're going?" she asked apprehensively, with wonder in her voice. "'Cause, seriously, I would... I dunno, love you forever."

"You mean, you don't already?" He looked to his young companion and winked, affection and a hint of rakish excitement flowing through him. Then he snorted. "And you wish," he continued, with a laugh. "That, up there, is for the residents here. They have to live somewhere! No, Rose, you and I... are going _there_."

They had come to the edge of the wood, and the river turned sharply away to the left. Rose looked around to where the Doctor was pointing and gasped. Nestled in a small alcove of trees was a cottage, all thatched roof and billowing smoke and white picket-fenced.

"You have _got _to be kidding," she breathed, and the Doctor couldn't help the smile that stole his features.

"I take it you like it, then," he said quietly, stroking her hand with his thumb.

Rose turned to him. "I love it," she replied earnestly. "Really, I do. It's..." She turned back to the quaint little cottage. "Really beautiful. Is that hand built?"

"Tentacle-built, I think."

"They have tentacles?"

"They have a lot more than just tentacles."

Rose eyed him suspiciously, as though she were expecting him to be harbouring secret tentacles. The Doctor laughed. "I'm not hiding any tentacles, Rose."

She relaxed. "Just checking."

Smiling, he began to lead her towards the cottage, before he was stopped by Rose pulling him back.

"Hang on... Isn't this a bit domestic for you?"

The Doctor fixed her with an interested gaze, then glanced back to the cottage. She could have a point, he supposed, if he really thought about it as a cottage rather than a perfectly nice get-away in the middle of Noxis, which was a holiday planet, nothing romantic in it in the slightest, and... oh, all right, domestic it was. It was a better choice than... any other word she might have used to describe it.

"Rose, I'm not averse to _everything _that's a little bit domestic." She snorted, but he ignored it. "We live together, after all, do we not?"

She stilled, like it was the first time she had really thought about it, and suddenly an unfamiliar nervousness fluttered in the Doctor's stomach. He swallowed, watching her.

"I guess we do, yeah," she offered slowly, a smile forming through her words.

"Well there we go, then! It'll be no different. Just... more walls. Well, less walls if you think about it, but to all intents and purposes it should be absolutely, one-hundred percent, exactly the – "

"I get it!" Rose laughed, shaking her head. "You could ramble for Britain, you could. Can we go in?"

The Doctor made a rolling motion with his arm, towards the house. "The lady gets what the lady wants. Off we go, then."

Squeezing her hand, he walked with her over to the path that led to the cottage. As they got closer a wonderful scent began to rise up and surround them, and the Doctor inhaled luxuriantly.

"Smell that, Rose?" he asked as they walked. "That is the smell of relaxation!"

She took in a few breaths, then looked at him, slightly bemused. "Garlic?" she asked.

"Correctamundo! Oh... I said I'd... never say that again, didn't I? Oh well, seems to have stuck. Anyway, yes, garlic. Very observant, Miss Tyler, have you been reading my botany books?"

Laughing, she responded, "I can honestly say I haven't been anywhere near your botany books, Doctor. But when me and Mum used to go visit family – "

"'Mum and I'," he corrected, by force of habit. Rose momentarily glared at him, and he mumbled a, 'sorry' before letting her continue.

"Anyway. We used to visit family out in the country, and we all used to go for walks. Hedgerows would be all full of garlic; I always loved it."

The Doctor glanced to Rose, at her hair moving gently in the breeze and her slightly flushed cheeks, and he smiled. She noticed him looking, he could tell, and her sudden shyness filled him with a new type of confidence. He would be the first to admit that this place was very out of the ordinary for him – the fact that he even knew about it was a miracle. But when he had been looking for a place to come and relax, the TARDIS had been insistent that their next location should be here, so he had done all the research he could possibly to about this planet beforehand.

Not that he would ever let Rose catch on to the fact that he barely knew more than she did about this place. Mostly.

Suddenly, appearing in front of them with a loud pop and – much to the Doctor's dismay – a puff of smoke, was an alien. An alien he knew by Rose's standards, anyway. It was perhaps three feet tall, purple, jelly-like and waving tentacles about like it was performing some strange dance.

Rose gave a very soft shriek of surprise, and the Doctor felt her jump beside him.

"It's okay, just the locals," he said quietly to her, reassuringly. That didn't stop him from staring down at the creature bemusedly for a second or two. Then he grinned and stepped forward, friendliness armed and at the ready.

"Hello!" he greeted brightly. "I'm the Doctor. This is Rose. We've... uhm, we've come to stay. Here. Well, not _here_, this is grass, in the middle of nowhere. There, really. Over there, just... there." He pointed to the cottage, looking pleadingly at the creature, which was making no signs of recognising what he was saying. Behind a film of jelly two large, blue eyes blinked up at him. "Right..." he finished lamely, dropping his arm. "Right, yes. Good." He continued staring at the alien, which seemed to be throbbing in and out. Bit worrying, that. "Anything?" he said to it.

It responded by making a large 'SLURP'ing sound, waving its tentacles, and shuffling over the grass towards the Doctor. Instinctively, he took a step back, towards Rose. He tried to swallow away his confusion and apprehension, but it didn't work.

"Doctor?" Rose said quietly from his side.

"What?" he hissed back from the corner of his mouth.

"It's got a collar," she all but mouthed. He frowned, then turned his head to her. She was closer than he expected, perhaps only half a foot away, and he swallowed again. Well, this was going well.

"A what?" he asked as his brain kicked into action.

"A collar," she repeated, with some urgency. The Doctor glanced down to the blob of jelly and saw that it was, indeed, wearing a collar, and also continuously slurping its way towards them.

"So?" he asked, looking back to Rose.

She gave a small sigh, as though she were a mother explaining something incredibly obvious to a very dense child. Before he could go on about the possibilities of different cultures on this planet, she replied.

"It has a collar. We can't understand it. What _else_ has a collar, Doctor, that we don't understand?"

"I dunno," he answered, failing to see the connection. "Dogs? Cats? People with... strange fetishes? I don't know."

"Pets, Doctor!" She was beginning to get irritable – not a good sign. He looked to the creature, then back to Rose, and realisation spread across his features in the form of a grin.

"Oh!" he enthused. "You're brilliant, you know that?"

"Or you're thick," Rose mumbled, but he pretended not to hear.

"A pet! Of course." He turned and crouched down, next to the... pet, and put a hand out as though he were about to stroke it. He paused, an unsavoury look crossing his face. He then, slowly, retracted his hand. The creature slurped again, and blinked. "Well, it's sort of... cute. I guess."

Rose snorted from above him, and he glanced up.

"Question is," he continued, standing, "what does it want with us? And where did it come from? I certainly don't remember ordering one of those when I booked."

Rose shrugged, looking down to the animal with a soft expression. "It doesn't look harmful. And... Hang on." Looking up to the Doctor, she frowned, and he got the distinct impression he was being scrutinised.

"Yes?" he said, innocently, and hoping against hope she wasn't suddenly going to come out with accusations about where her favourite milkshake in the TARDIS fridge had gone. Though, why she'd be thinking about that, he had no idea.

"Did you say 'booked'?"

The question took a moment to kick in. "Beg pardon?"

"Here. You said you 'booked' here. Yeah?"

"Yes..."

Her face lit up, and with it, the Doctor felt relief flood him like sunlight coming out from being clouds. "You actually... planned something. In advance."

"Well... I suppose so, yes," he replied, scratching his ear. "Heard it was quite difficult to get a reservation. Though it best to book in advance. You know, to be safe, and all that."

The grin that cracked her face could not have been equalled, even by himself, and she took to humming to herself contentedly.

"Happy, then?" he laughed, reaching for her hand when he realised how cold his felt.

She looked up to him with warmth. "Ecstatic."

"Good."

Staring at each other in the gentle sunlight, they almost forgot about the strange alien by their feet. Until it slurped again, and the Doctor felt something wet and slimy try to wind its way around his leg.

"Ah," he said distastefully, looking down and shaking his leg free. On his trouser leg was a damp trail of slime, and Rose giggled. "Yes."

"What are we going to do with you?" Rose cooed, bending down to the alien. Much to the Doctor's disapproval, the small creature blinked appealingly at her, then started slithering towards her instead.

"Oh, no you don't," he said, stepping in front of Rose. He looked down at it, sternly, and extended an admonishing finger. "No sliming my companions."

"I'm terribly sorry – was he scaring you?"

The Doctor, who wasn't easily surprised, looked up at a six foot or so alien – much like the one down by his feet – who had, apparently, appeared from nowhere.

"Hello," he said, in shock.

"Hi," Rose said, from beside him.

"Greetings," replied the big, purple alien with tentacles. Then he made a 'tutting' sort of sound, bent down, and pulled a leash out from under the smaller, more jelly-like alien. Pulling him away from Rose, the alien reprimanded, "Drarrl, what did I tell you about wandering off?"

The Doctor turned to Rose meaningfully, and jerked his head slightly. "See?" he murmured quietly. "Wandering off. Don't I always tell you about wandering off, Rose?"

She pulled a face at him, and he turned back to their new friend.

"Oh?" said the alien with intrigue. "Is she your pet, also? We don't usually allow pets to stay in – "

"No," both the Doctor and Rose said firmly at once. "She's my friend," the Doctor continued, with a brief smile.

"Oh, I see. Apologies for the mistake. You are to be staying in this accommodation?" He indicated behind him, at the cottage. At the Doctor's nod, he continued. "My name is Tur'tai. I will be your host while you stay here. If you experience any trouble or have any questions, feel free to contact me." He handed to the Doctor a small disc, with an even smaller button on it, that was blinking and emitting a strange whirring. He also handed the Doctor a very rusty-looking piece of glowing metal. "Here are the keys to the cottage, and dinner will be served in about three hours, on the promenade, just after moonrise. If you go in that direction for a mile or so, you should find it easily enough. After dinner, if you wish, there will be some entertainment, and we will always be around to help should you require anything. We hope you have a pleasant stay."

And, just like that, the alien vanished in a puff of green smoke, taking the strange pet with him.

"Well, then," said the Doctor, turning to Rose and dangling the key just in front of her. His eyes lit up with devilish glee as he said, "That's that. Fancy an explore?"

He didn't wait for an answer.

**End this Part**

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_**Author's Note**: If you liked this, why not leave me a one-word prompt to work off? That's what my 'Scattered Moments' series is all about!_


	2. Under the Skin

Two – Under the Skin

**Intimacy  
**noun  
_1. close or warm friendship;  
__2. a usually secretive or illicit sexual relationship;  
3. a feeling of being intimate and belonging together.  
_

The cottage turned out to be very... cottagey. Not that he expected much else from a cottage, but it certainly could not have been called anything else. The floor was made from stone cold slabs, the walls were rough and sharp. Everything in the place was wooden or stone, and there didn't appear to be any electricity (though there was, fortunately, running water). A fire crackled welcomingly at them in the grate as they had walked in, and a small sofa that, had it not been so small, looked so made up it could have been slept on. On one side of the cottage was a kitchen, small, not even a cooker, and on the other was a bedroom, with a joining bathroom. That was it.

"Well, it's certainly... cosy," the Doctor had noted when they had been first looking around (which took all of a minute). Then, as he had been examining some of the kitchen utensils, something strange had happened.

"Doctor." Rose had called him over from the bedroom door, staring at him in almost a reprimanding way. Perhaps it was the tone of her voice, but something in it had made the Doctor still slightly, and a tiny shiver had danced across his skin. He looked up, meeting her gaze across the living room. Tilting her head back, she'd said quietly, "There's only one bed."

For reasons he could not explain, one of his hearts had actually skipped a beat. He already knew there was only one bed, he'd wandered over there first. Closing the drawer, he had crossed the living room slowly, coming up just in front of her and peering over her shoulder. Without quite meaning to, he'd placed a hand either side of the doorframe, of her body, and he'd leant forward so that there were only mere inches between them.

He glanced down to her and held her gaze. "So there is," he had remarked, his voice low and – dare he admit it – perhaps even husky.

She had been confused by the simplicity of his reply and the softness with which he'd said it, he could tell. He hadn't been entirely sure of it himself: it just slipped out, like water gliding over stones in a stream.

"Don't you think it's a bit..." she'd started, shifting slightly. Was she uncomfortable, or was that something else he'd seen in her eyes?

He had edge forward, his breath slow. "Intimate?" he suggested, very quietly, and his right hand had begun to drift slowly down the doorframe.

"Well... yeah..."

He couldn't be sure how long their gaze had held, how long he had stood there staring at her with something akin to hunger beating through his veins. She just looked so...

And then, suddenly, like a slap in the face, he had remembered who he was and realised what he had been about to do. He leapt away from her, like she'd stung him, then turned around with a rakish grin and his hands sliding into his pockets.

"Nah," he'd joked, back to himself once again. "It's a double: plenty of room! And no, we're not going to flip for it. I don't like sleeping on the floor and I'm too much of a gentleman to let you do it."

And there you go, moment over, like it had never happened, and they had proceeded to potter around the house 'examining' things, and making idle chit-chat.

Of course, there was nothing wrong with sharing a bed. They had done it before, plenty of times, on various alien planets and in a variety of different prisons; but there was also a line, the Doctor was well aware, and somehow he had the infallible feeling that he had crossed it. That by coming here everything had changed, and that when they left in a few days' time it would be a totally different TARDIS they would be walking into – metaphorically speaking, of course. He very much doubted if the people of Noxis would take any interest in his time machine, much less tamper with it.

It was perhaps half an hour or so after the bedroom 'incident' when the Doctor realised he hadn't been able to stop thinking about it. Rose was talking to him, had been for a while, and all he had been able to respond with were the occasional 'hmm's and 'mmm's as she went along. He had been getting away with it, too, until eventually:

"Doctor?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Mmm."

He was, at that moment, looking behind a picture frame. The picture itself had caught his eye, and he was checking the back for some sort of signature, as there appeared to be none on the picture itself. Rose was in the kitchen, attempting to make a cup of tea, which turned out to be decidedly difficult without any electricity or a cooker.

"Okay, then answer me."

He froze, realising that he had perhaps been caught out. Glancing over to her, he tried to win her over with a smile. "Yes?" he said, hoping that that would suffice. He honestly didn't have a clue what she'd been talking about.

Rose laughed. "So... you're trying to tell me you _do _keep squirrels aboard the TARDIS?"

"I... no, of course not! What on earth gave you that idea?"

Still amused, she began to walk towards him, then slumped down in the sofa just behind him. "'Cause that's what I just asked you."

He turned and looked at her. Oh.

She grinned up at him cheekily, reading his expression. "Busted, much?"

Sighing, and knowing he was beaten, the Doctor flopped down next to her, draping one arm over the back of the sofa and the other very loosely around her. Surprising him, she snuggled into him putting a hand on his chest, and he surprised himself when he pulled her closer.

"I didn't cover that one very well, did I?" he asked with a smile in this voice, staring into the fire and trying not to think about having Rose so close to him.

She shook her head into his shoulder. "Nope."

A few minutes of amicable silence passed between them, and the Doctor felt Rose's breathing start to relax. A lazy, happy smiled drifted over his face and, resting his head on hers, he closed his eyes. How easy it was to be with her, to be sitting like this, to curl his arm around her and feel her warmth permeate his clothes and his skin. How easy it would be to use his other hand to push those loose strands of hair away from her face, to stroke her cheek gently and feel her sigh lightly into him, to almost forget himself when she made the small little 'hmmm' noise as she breathed out, and... oh bother, he was actually doing it, and if he weren't very, very careful, he would be doing a lot more very, very soon. Bother, bother, bother, damn and blast. What in the name of Gallifrey was going on?

"So," Rose breathed, and he was very pleased to have something to concentrate on that wasn't his own pulse rate.

"Yes?" he asked quietly, unable to stop the hand that was holding her close to him from running gently up and down her arm.

"What were you thinking about? When you weren't listening to me, I mean."

There was teasing in her voice, as though she were trying to catch him out, and he smiled. Then he remembered what he had actually been thinking about when he wasn't listening to her, and he cleared his throat embarrassedly.

"Well, Rose, if you must know, I was thinking about – " he began, before he bit off his sentence and sat up abruptly, shaking Rose off him. She turned and frowned at him, confused, but he just blinked at her, a momentary thrum of thrilling fear buzzing in his fingertips. He had... he had just been about to tell her he had been thinking about her 'uncontrollably', and double beds, and being unable to get her out of his mind.

"About?" she prompted, looking at him quite seriously.

He met her eyes and licked his lips. _Don't say 'you', don't say 'you'_, he urged himself as his mouth opened and an answer fell from his lips. "...Apples."

Rose snorted and raised an eyebrow. "Apples."

The Doctor momentarily bit his lip. "Yup," he affirmed, his mouth swallowing the word and his voice raised nearly an octave in pitch, the way it always did when he was trying to cover something up.

"And what, about apples, were you thinking?" She was leaning forward and an amused challenge danced in her eyes as she flicked some hair out of her face. She quite evidently didn't believe him.

"They're... crunchy?" he tried. She smirked at him, and he got the distinct impression that he was about to ask what he really had been thinking about – so, before she could, he stood up and pointed to the window. "Look, Rose, I think it's starting to get dark. It'll probably be time for dinner soon, shall we go for a walk?"

The Doctor looked down at her, hope shining in his eyes. A brief moment passed in which he knew she could either push him, or let it go. When she sighed good-naturedly and stood to her feet, he knew he was in the clear.

"All right," she said, as he offered her his arm. "But if I get eaten, or something, I'm gonna kill you."

"Oh, you won't get eaten," the Doctor replied with complete confidence as they left the cottage. "Well," he continued, winking. "At least, not by them."

Rose blinked at him and he laughed to himself, then pulled her along the path into a completely new adventure.

-oOo-

The Doctor was acting weird. He had been acting weird ever since they had got here, pretty much, and now in the fresh air of outside, with the sun just beginning to dip into the horizon and the moons starting to shine luminous purple in the sky, he seemed to be worse than ever.

His response to there only being one bed had been bad enough. Rose had seriously thought she would melt when she had seen that look in his eyes, a look she had never before seen from him, at least not up close. He had been so close she could feel his breath on her face, and suddenly – for a split second – she hadn't minded so much about the fact that there was only one bed.

But then the look had disappeared and he'd bounded away from her, making cracks about sleeping on the floor, and she had felt thoroughly dejected and, to be a honest, a bit confused. The Doctor wasn't exactly a man you could challenge about strange behaviour, so she had let him get on with it, put it down to him being a bit strange. But then later, lying on the sofa, when she could hear the gentle 'ba-dum' of his hearts in her ear, she had felt so happy, and so at home.

And when he'd reached across and touched her face, her skin felt like he had set it on fire. She hoped he hadn't noticed just how torturous being that close with him could be.

Now they were walking and talking, their hands held firmly between them. Rose loved holding the Doctor's hand. There was something comforting with the sheer authority he had over her fingers, winding his in between hers, and the feel of his palm smooth against her own. Every now and then, while they walked, he would give her hand a little squeeze and look at her, with a gaze so gentle that it almost ached to look back at him.

Of course, he was rabbiting on about everything, showing off, and it made her smile. Even after all this time he sometimes still needed to show off to her, and to feel that special in his eyes was dizzying. So she snuggled into his shoulder once or twice to let him know it was appreciated.

"Quite a docile race, from what I can tell," he was saying as they walked over crisp grass. They had been walking for quite a while, mostly following the wood and the direction it led. Now they had long left the wood behind, and the grasslands were open, and very,very beautiful, the land dotted with flowers of all sorts of sizes and colours. To their right the hill dipped downwards for a long way, and at its base was a large lake of water. Around the edge of the water were trees, perhaps nearly a hundred of them, bent over and steeped with age and tiredness, letting their long leaves dip into the surface of the shining liquid.

"Willow trees, I bet," the Doctor said, when he noticed Rose looking at them.

She turned and smiled to him. "Learn that from your botany book, did you?" she teased gently, letting her tongue slip out between her teeth.

"Actually, yes," he replied off-handedly, staring ahead of them. "There's a lot to be learned from books, you know." He looked down at her, then, and she could see soft teasing dancing in his eyes. He smirked, the corners of his mouth twitching as he considered her. "You might want to try."

"Trying to say I'm not clever, Doctor?"

"Would I?" he said, and Rose laughed at his mock-offended expression. He grinned, then quickened their pace. "Come on; I think the restaurant is just up here, up this hill."

The slope was gentle, and as they climbed, the top of a building began to loom above them. As the rest of the land fell away behind them, Rose turned momentarily to get a quick glance. The lake was beginning to sparkle, reflecting the sky and the start of the night's stars. The wood, she could see, expanded for miles and miles, and settled into various alcoves came an array of smoke plumes, where evidently there were many more cottages. And, above them, drifting through the warm dusk air, soft music was playing from the restaurant.

The Doctor had stopped with her, to survey the scene, and she smiled at their surroundings. "This is lovely," she sighed.

When he pulled his hand out of hers she frowned, and was about to turn to him, but – quite to her surprise – she felt it snake around her back and settle on her hip instead. His grip was gentle, as though he wasn't quite sure if he should be putting his hand there at all.

This was all new from the Doctor. They had always been close, yes, but there was something different about him now. Before, there had always been some sort of undefined line between what was acceptable, and what wasn't acceptable. They always held hands, of course, more so now as a sign of their friendship than a sign of needing to run for their lives. But in Rose's memory she had never before stood over beautiful scenery with the Doctor's arm around her waist and his hands curling into her skin through her t-shirt.

She was unable to hold back a shiver, even though the air was warm, and the Doctor's hand tightened around her waist. His thumb began to drift absently up and down.

"We... we'll be late to dinner," Rose managed to say, and her throat was surprisingly dry. She had to make sure her eyes were forward, looking around the grounds – if she looked at the Doctor she might see him standing there with a huge grin plastered over his face, and she wasn't quite sure she could handle his flippancy right now.

But when he spoke, she couldn't detect any hint of smile in his voice.

"Dinner can wait."

Braving a look at him, Rose's breath hitched when she saw the Doctor was staring at her. There was that look in his eyes again, the quiet, sultry 'I want you' look: the same look she had seen on Mickey, on Jimmy, occasionally, even, on Jack. It was never a look she had associated with the Doctor, not really, not in the flesh-and-blood Doctor she was with every day instead of the fantasy Doctor who would sometimes appear in her mind. So seeing it on him now was slightly unnerving.

His chest was moving slowly, in time with his breath, and his eyes were two large discs of obsidian with a chocolate layer. His lips, parted ever so slightly, released warm breaths of air, which made her cheeks tingle when she felt it. When had they got so close?

"Doctor?"

Something in him seemed to still. He didn't change, not one bit, but suddenly he blinked and everything was gone. He was the Doctor again.

His face cracked into a grin and the moment was gone.

"Oh, all right," he said, releasing her waist and taking her hand once again. The loss of contact was startlingly discomforting, and Rose had to hide her sadness with a quick smile. "Can't have you missing dinner. Not that, you know, it would do you any harm."

He grinned jauntily, laughter in his eyes, and if he hadn't been pulling her up the hill towards the restaurant, she probably would have hit him.


	3. Want

Three: Want

**Palpable **

adj.

_1. Capable of being touched, felt or handled; touchable, tangible. _

_2. Obvious or easily perceived; noticeable. _

As it turned out, they were early. Far too early to get a table, and there was nowhere for either of them to wait.

"Ah," said the Doctor as he stood, his hand in Rose's, surveying the restaurant. It was pretty huge. A large canopy swept overhead, sheltering tables and tables of chattering aliens. All of them, he noticed, were couples. There was a bar to one side, where a few loners sat brooding over their drinks (at least, the Doctor assumed they were brooding; they looked the brooding sort of types).

The restaurant seemed to be on a small stage of wood, maybe half a foot above ground, and where the canopy ended lawns and lawns spread out in all directions. There were only two walls, one backing the bar, the other over to the very far side, where every now and then a pink, jelly alien would burst through a pair of swinging double doors laden with plates and drinks. The kitchen, then.

On the lawn to their right a small string quartet was playing, and beautiful music drifted serenely all around them. At least he knew where that music had been coming from. Behind the quartet the land began to slope downwards, towards the lake the Doctor and Rose had been looking at earlier. With the growing night the water sparkled and shimmered up at them, and the surface was disturbed only by one or two swimmers, enjoying the refreshing cool of the water in the increasingly warm air.

The Doctor turned to Rose, wondering what he could say to her. She shrugged at him but, just as he opened his mouth, Tur'tai appeared from nowhere.

"You are early," he said, then pointed a tentacle up into the sky. It was bruised a rich deep purple, and the moons were beginning to shine blue, but there was still a little light left in it. "The moons have not yet risen." He then seemed to survey Rose as though he had missed something completely obvious. He turned to the Doctor. "Is Miss Tyler in need of the changing facilities?"

"'Scuse me?" Rose asked, and the Doctor squeezed her hand. He then tilted his head backwards slightly, meeting Tur'tai's gaze.

"She's just fine, thank you."

Tur'tai's very jelly forehead wrinkled into what the Doctor could only assume was a frown. He hoped his own forehead didn't do that. "But she is not wearing the regulation clothing," he protested. "All women in the species are given regulation clothing; it's part of the culture, surely you knew?"

The Doctor cleared his throat. "Yes, well, Rose and I usually find ourselves above regulations. Thanks anyway."

"Doctor, if you will not abide by our natures, I am going to have to ask you to leave," Tur'tai said brusquely, although there was an element of warmth in his voice. "The clothing is not dangerous, and we have studied each species profoundly so as to not offend their customs. Please, it is much for the good of our guests."

The Doctor felt Rose pull slightly on his hand, and he looked at her. She nodded to him, then smiled, her silent message to him. He bit his lip and twitched his eyebrows upwards, as though to express that it sounded suspicious.

Rose's smile grew into a smirk, and she glanced around them, to the tables in the restaurant and the music players a few metres away, on the soft ground of the lawn, where a few people had started to dance to the music. The Doctor followed her gaze, before looking back to her and nodding. He had to be sure.

Once again, Rose nodded.

"Oh, all right," the Doctor relented, putting an exaggerated victimised tone in his voice, which seemed to go over Tur'tai's head. He pointed a reprimanding finger in the alien's direction. "But I'd better get her back in one piece, capisce? Oh, 'capisce'." He turned back to Rose, grinning. "I don't think I've used that. Rather good, may start using it more in the future. What do you think?"

Rose laughed, and it was a sound that warmed him. "I think you're mad, Doctor."

"The rooms are this way, Rose," Tur'tai said, indicating to a door over beside the bar. "If you will come with me I can show you your clothing."

"Well," said Rose, slipping her hand out of the Doctor's and giving him a small, friendly wink. "Looks like I'll be getting changed, then. Back in a tick."

As she turned and followed Tur'tai through the doors ahead, the Doctor slipped his hands into his pockets and turned slightly, taking a few paces to the edge of the raised stage. He listened to the music and smiled briefly at the lake below, before finally lifting his head to the sky and watching the last few rays of light evaporate into darkness while the moons climbed in ascent. A gentle smile tugged at his features: he had a feeling that there was a lot more of this planet he was going to show her.

-oOo-

How long could she _take_? With nowhere to go and nowhere to sit, the Doctor had been standing around idly, embarrassedly missing the eye of people ('people' being a term he used loosely, of course; he was fairly certain Rose was the only human here) who kept looking at him from their dinner tables, for thirty-three minutes. The moons were now in full colour, all other light gone from the sky, and it was only thanks to the hundreds of candles in the restaurant that he could see. All right, so he could have allowed five, maybe ten, minutes for her to don whatever they had her to wear and maybe spruce herself up a bit – she did, after all like doing that sort of thing – but this was just ridiculous.

He'd been standing around, patiently he might add, as bored as a lemon, and neither Rose nor Tur'tai had emerged. He wasn't exactly sure how lemons could be bored – yellow, yes, but not bored – but the point still stood. If she wasn't back soon, she would be eating dinner on her own.

And then, just as he was beginning to tap his feet in impatience, he heard soft footfalls behind him and, turning around, he saw her: and he could have sworn one of his hearts stopped. His mouth hanging open, from the sentence he'd been about to construct, the Doctor let his eyes sweep shamelessly slowly over his Rose as she walked towards him, awe and astonishment shining in his eyes. Well, he revised as she grew closer, 'walked' was entirely the wrong term: it was too clumsy, too ordinary, too _human_: she positively glided towards him in the dress she was wearing. His eyes raked up and down, he couldn't stop them. The material of the dress, something sleek and – though a lustrous red – full of specks of all sorts of other colours, shimmered temptingly up at him as it clung to Rose like a second skin. The Doctor began to wonder what _he_ would be like as her second skin, before he became entirely distracted with how good that fabric looked to touch. He wondered what it would be like to run his hands over it, over Rose, to smooth his hands over her bared shoulders and find out the mechanics of the glossy material.

Rassilon, did that dress ever... cling. He took in the long length of her legs, the smoothness of her thighs, her curves... everything was beautifully accentuated, defining her shape, and the top of the dress dipped subtly into – somewhere he shouldn't be looking. His gaze swept up the curve of her neck, her clear, defined jaw, her face, her eyes, her cheeks, all subtly done up with make-up, to show off the best of her features. Her hair, done simply, beautifully, in a loose bun with a few wayward strands. He'd just about finished looking her over the first time (he had many more in mind) by the time she reached him.

"You look..." the Doctor began breathily, truly astounded, and a blush settled firmly in Rose's cheeks. "Breathtaking," he finished, though he knew the word was far beneath was she actually was. He caught her hand up in his own to prove to himself she were real, that he wasn't imagining her.

The blush began to creep further, speckling the top of her collarbone, and with the tone and colour of the dress it makes her look all the more ravishing. "No, really," the Doctor continued, taking a step backwards so he could hungrily survey her again. "Wow."

She glanced sideways to the floor, evidently embarrassed. "Thanks, Doctor."

"I..." He didn't know what to say. He was still trying to drink her in, to press this image firmly to his mind so that he could summon it again, at any time he wished, and... Oh. Oh, dear. He was beginning to sound a lot like her own kind, like a human, like a lusty human man, not a... a powerful, unique being of Time. Oh... Bother.

"Your table is this way," Tur'tai said, fortunately interrupting the Doctor's thoughts. The Doctor, still with Rose's hand in his, pulled her to his side and considered their host, wondering just how long he had been there, just how much he had seen. For reasons he couldn't explain, the thought of anyone else even looking at Rose right now disturbed him, so though he gave the alien a brilliant smile, and a happy, quick response, inside he was vowing that if any other man should have any misgivings about where Rose belonged, he would soon set them straight. Very straight indeed.

As they followed Tur'tai, his hold on Rose's hand became all the more firm and he slipped his fingers through hers. The fit was warm, perfect, like his hand had found its mate. The Doctor couldn't stop making brief glimpses at Rose, smiling at her gently and feeling inexplicably elated every time she smiled back.

These signs were not good, he decided as they sat down. These signs were the signs of a madman, of someone who had forgotten who he was. But he couldn't help it. With Rose looking like that, all curves and dark eyes and temptation, combined with the atmosphere that had been following them around since they got here, he felt compelled to stay with her, to take her in his arms and shamelessly tell her he'd never let her go.

It was a difficult temptation to refuse.

"Would you like any wine?"

Tur'tai was standing beside the table, looking between the Doctor and Rose expectantly. The Doctor caught Rose's eye, who was looking momentarily startled, like she didn't know whether it would be wine or something incredibly alien. He nodded to her – chances were, if they had 'studied' races so studiously as Tur'tai would have liked him to believe, then this race would be sure of humans and what they took as 'ordinary'.

One ordered glass of red wine later (the Doctor thought it probably best he didn't drink, especially considering how he was prone to feeling), Tur'tai was wandering away, leaving the pair on their own once again. As soon as he was out of earshot, Rose turned to the Doctor and promptly burst into quiet laughter.

"God, look at this place!" she giggled, slyly looking back into the rest of the restaurant. "What a big fuss about nothing. It's just a meal."

The Doctor couldn't help grinning in response. "Well, you never know, to some, something like this might be incredibly romantic. Best night of their lives, sort of thing."

Rose caught the Doctor's eye and laughter danced in her eyes as she bit down on her lip in a smirk. "Right."

They both snorted and nearly collapsed all over the table. Rose eventually sat back, wiping the back of her hand under her eye. "Seriously, though, I've never seen such a fuss made over a bite to eat."

Something in the Doctor's gut growled, and it wasn't hunger. A gentle smile spread over his face as he surveyed his companion, happy that – like always – they seemed to be on the same wavelength.

"Well," he reasoned, absently reaching across the table and taking her hand in his, "to lot of people this would probably be a lot more than 'a bite to eat'."

"Yeah, well," Rose retorted, pulling at the material of her dress to make a point, "anything that makes me bother with this stuff can go scratch. I'm quite happy with a plate of chips, thank you very much, not some fancy do with a menu I don't understand. I went somewhere with Mickey once, right, and _everything_ was in French. Like, seriously, everything. TARDIS would've been useful, I can tell you."

The Doctor took a swig from the glass of water placed by his cutlery. "You sure you _weren't_ in France, Rose? I hear they speak quite good French over there." He eyed her cheekily over the rim, and she stuck her tongue out at him.

Not long afterwards, Tur'tai returned with Rose's drink and two menus. After choosing what they wanted to eat (the Doctor deciphering what each thing was, for Rose's sake) and laughing at how unbelievable this place was, the two of them sat laughing and eating and generally making a humorous ruckus. More than one table told them to 'shhhhh', very rudely the Doctor thought, so he just stared them down and obnoxiously ate pasta in their direction, which caused Rose to laugh and flush with embarrassment.

Much later, when they had eaten and drunk to their hearts' content (the Doctor had, eventually, given in and ordered a bottle of red wine between them), they sat nursing their full stomachs, hands held across the table as each of them looked down the hill to the lake below.

Their table was one right on the edge, close to the quartet, and it gave them a beautiful view of both the sky and the pool of water below. The three moons of Noxis bathed the surrounding grass in blue and turquoise light, and the surface of the lake looked like a huge, sparkling sapphire. A few people were sitting around its rim, and more still were bathing in its waters, swimming together like dancers in time with the music.

"It's beautiful," Rose murmured, and the Doctor's gaze lifted from the lake to her. The candles made her skin dance, and against the backdrop of the night sky she looked positively stunning.

"Yes," he agreed quietly, and she looked up and met his eye with a gentle smile. As he held her gaze he began to feel that feeling tug at him again, the one that never wanted to let her go. Must be the wine, he thought idly. It usually took a lot of alcohol before it began to affect him, but he'd never before had any in this regeneration – unless you counted Christmas, which he didn't, because it was Christmas – so perhaps his resistance to it was lower.

"Would you like to dance?"

Had he just asked that? Oh, he had so not just asked that. Never, ever, would he have asked that. Except, judging by the way Rose was looking at him, he couldn't help but think that he had.

The Doctor gulped, then smiled shyly, briefly.

"What?" Rose asked, perhaps quite reasonably.

He laughed and looked down to the tablecloth, nervousness spreading through him like a disease. Quick, he told himself, think of a cover-up.

"I asked if you wanted to dance," said his mouth, without his brain's permission, and he froze.

A blush began to creep through Rose's cheeks again, and he could hardly blame her. "I... Yeah, all right, then," she said, smiling nervously with him. "If you want."

"Oh, I want, Rose." Since when had his voice sounded like that, all deep and honest? Since when did Rose shiver when he spoke? "I want very much."

As he considered her across the table, her eyes glittering in candlelight, another not-so-but-getting-increasingly familiar feeling swept through the Doctor, and he suddenly found himself reasoning with sanity about why he should not just get up, pull Rose to him and kiss the living daylights out of her. There had to be reasons, he was sure, but if there were, they seemed to have fled in fear.

Before he knew what he was doing, he was on his feet, and Rose was too. Smiling down at her (and doing a fantastic job of masking the ideas currently bombarding his mind, he thought), he pulled her slowly by her hand onto the grass below, close to where the string quartet were playing.

Down below, the lake glistened and winked, and the Doctor – as though it were the most natural thing in the world – turned to Rose, put one hand on her waist while the other gripped hers, and began to waltz them in small circles around the lawn.

Rose laughed, perhaps nervously, as they made a couple of circles on the grass. He made sure to grin at her dashingly when she looked up at him.

"Didn't know you could dance, Doctor," she said cheekily, her tongue poking on the side of her mouth.

He gazed at her with an amused expression, his eyebrows up in his hairline at her cheeky response. "Oh, Rose," he sighed laughingly. "You have no idea."

Suddenly, he surprised her. Keeping a hold of her hand he let go of her waist and twirled her away from him. Rose's dizzy laughter echoed around him and he spun her back into his arms. Her laughter subsided as she realised he was now behind her, his arm across her upper body, holding her tightly to him, while his other hand snaked around her stomach to secure his hold. In a matter of seconds, she was completely flush against him.

The Doctor lowered his mouth to her ear, letting his breath coast her skin. "No idea at all," he repeated, promise and wonder in his whisper.

She shivered in his arms, and he felt every tremble as it travelled down her body. The air here got warmer as the night pressed on, not colder, and he found himself smiling into her jawline.

Slowly, he began to move them, starting a slower, different dance, swaying gently to the music as soft light bathed them in a milky glow. Rose relaxed in his arms and he breathed in the scent of her, all warmth and pheromones and Rose, and somehow he knew that tonight would be a night he remembered until the end of his days.

After he eventually detached from her and gave a cursory smile, he wondered how the hell he was going to explain his actions when he didn't understand them himself. And, as he took her hand and started leading her back through the restaurant, nodding thanks at the musicians as they passed, he found himself remembering that bed at the cottage and the conversation where he'd insisted they'd share.

It wasn't a big deal, he told himself. Perfectly reasonable. No reason why one of them should sleep on the floor, they were both adults, there was plenty of room. He didn't even need to sleep, anyway, so technically she could just have it.

It would have been a plausible train of thought, too, had he not spent the entire walk back thinking about all the ways he could undress her.


	4. A Matter of Words

**Author's Note**: Sorry for the delay! I'm currently tudying for exams (: This prompt was given to me by **takethedamnbanana**, and what a successful prompt it was. Enjoy! ;)

* * *

Four: A Matter of Words

**Crave  
**verb  
_1. To long for, want greatly, desire eagerly;  
__2. To require, need;  
3. To ask earnestly for, beg for._

"Here we are, then," the Doctor said, slipping the rusted metal into the oddly shaped hole in the front door of their cottage. "Home safe and sound, as promised."

Rose gave him an odd smile a she walked past him into the living room, and the Doctor bit his lip with slight nervousness once she had passed. Was she going to call him on his actions tonight? He severely hoped not because, quite honestly, he didn't have a clue how he was going to explain himself.

His hormones had been acting weird since they'd got here. Sure, the air was fresh and clean, and smelled lovely, the landscapes and skyscapes were some of the most beautiful he'd seen, the company was a woman he wouldn't change for the universe, and as yet Nothing Bad Had Happened... but there something different about him, he could feel it. His hearts felt lighter, easier, and he often couldn't think in a straightforward line. His thoughts often abandoned him just as he was getting to the really good part and he was... well, he was 'noticing' things a lot more than he had been.

Like, Rose, for an example. Just a small, unimportant example. He noticed the way she looked, the way she moved, the way light danced off her skin and the way her scent wound around him in the air. He noticed the way she carried herself, the way she held herself, the way her quick eyes darted around a new room and the way her body moulded with his when they'd –

_No_, the Doctor told himself firmly, and he shook his head as he shut the front door. What in the name of the Time Lords had got into him?

He made for the sofa, with every intention of flopping down into it with tired exhaustion. But then Rose began to say something , and his eyes went to her. And, once again, he was completely taken with the image of her in that dress, which sparkled new and different colours at him in the soft firelight. While they had been out, one of the housekeepers had evidently come in and lit the candles for them, as the same glow from the fire bathed the rest of the room. Shadows lay elongated in strange directions and, before the Doctor could stop himself, he was walking very slowly over to Rose.

She stopped talking, frowning at him in confusion a little, but she stayed rooted to the spot.

"What?" she asked as he drew closer.

"You really do look lovely in that dress, you know," he said, tone low and his fingers twitching slightly by his side. "I wonder..."

Briefly, he let his eyes rake the material again, but he dragged them away from the fascinating material all too soon and up into her eyes. She met his gaze with open patience, and something of a question lacing her irises.

"Can I...?" the Doctor began, and he edged his hand towards her like a timid animal, signalling the dress.

Slowly, holding his eye contact, Rose nodded.

Gently, so gently he doubted she would be able to feel it, he rested his hand on her hip, dropping his gaze to watch as his fingers drifted deftly over the fibres in the dress. The feel of the material beneath his skin was exquisite. It was course yet fine, smooth and satiny, but with a definite personality and charm to it. Even with the extra senses in his skin, it was unlike anything he had ever remembered feeling. Then slowly, with the patience and elegance of a practised man, the Doctor began to let his hand drift up the side of Rose's torso, relishing the fabric beneath his touch. He felt her body tense underneath his fingertips as he climbed higher, heard the subtle gasp elicit from her mouth, and his eyes flicked daringly up to meet his.

She was watching him under hooded lashes, and something he would never before have associated with Rose – well, not really, not often at least – danced in her eyes. It sent a shiver down his spine that then began to spread around his whole body.

He started to trace the top of the dress with just his forefinger and thumb, dragging bare millimetres of his skin across Rose's in the process. She made another gasp, and he dropped his focus to his fingers.

"Very beautiful," he murmured, leaning forward ever so slightly as his hand worked back the way it had just come. "This dress. Very, very beautiful." Then, looking up once more and feeling strengthened by something he couldn't explain, he added, "It suits you."

Her mouth was open, just a little, and he wondered what it would be like to explore it. He'd wondered it before, in the remnants of nights and the tendrils of dreams, but never like this...

His hand, the Doctor realised, had moved by itself. It had left the dress and was now coasting her bare skin, always the ghost of a touch and never anything more. Finally, he brought his fingertips to a stop, four speckled around her collarbone and one beginning to drift up her neck.

"I..." he began, but the words – if he had any – stuck in his throat.

"Yeah," Rose said, and there was a breathlessness in her voice he very much wanted to hear more of.

With their gazes locked, the Doctor suddenly felt trapped, in a way he never had before; and he loved it. He had the horrible feeling, however, that he was about to do something very, very stupid.

"I think," he started again, finally adding pressure behind his touches and pushing into Rose's skin, "we need to..."

He trailed off. He couldn't help it. Just looking into her eyes made him go mad, those colours, those pigments sparkling back at him... She was like a craving.

Her tongue darted out, just for a second, to wet her lips. And he couldn't help it, he really couldn't, when his eyes dipped down to her lips, then back again. He would have been a fool to wonder if she'd seen him, she was watching him the whole time.

"Need to what?" she asked huskily, and he could hear her words vibrate below his hand.

He opened his mouth to speak, to reply, but he knew the words wouldn't come because he honestly couldn't even remember what he'd been thinking. All he knew was that if he didn't start kissing her within the next five seconds, a miracle must have happened.

Holding her gaze steadily in his, he dipped his head to meet her mouth –

– Only to have the front door knock before he'd moved enough for Rose to realise what he'd been about to do.

He wasn't sure which was worse: the way Rose jumped and broke his focus on her, or the way he leapt back from her as though she'd bitten him. He stared at Rose, breathing heavily, and she stared back with a look that quite clearly asked him what the hell he was doing. His face softened into confusion and he shook his head, the tiniest movement, hoping she would take his apology.

The knocking at the door persisted and, when Rose turned away from him and looked into the fire rather than at him, the Doctor decided he'd better take it.

He stalked over to the wood, wondering whether – instead of Noxis – they had fallen into some trashy romance novel, because that was certainly what he felt was happening. Just his luck to be at the hands, the literal hands, of an author who could do anything they wanted with him. And oh, weren't they just having a field day with him, this metaphorical being of his own mind. Weren't they just making him squirm.

He opened the door rather more harshly than he meant flinging it back and trying not to glare at whoever stood there. "Yes?" he barked, not feeling in the best of spirits.

Whatever had just happened with Rose... No, he wasn't going to think about that. It would only put him in a worse mood, not to mention confuse him, all these hormonal swings.

"Excuse me, is Rose Tyler with you?"

It was Tur'tai, and he was holding a clipboard and looking very nervous. He also, the Doctor noted with some amusement, was wearing a small pair of glasses that didn't quite fit him.

"Um. Yes, yes she is." He went to call back over his shoulder, but she was already at his side and elbowing him out the way.

"Can I help?" she asked, greeting Tur'tai with a warm gaze – much warmer than she should have, the Doctor thought, considering he interrupted... absolutely nothing, the Doctor told himself resolutely. He just... liked dresses. On Rose. Yes.

Tur'tai gave her a smile, but his tone was official. "You left the restaurant with our garment," he said simply, nodding his head towards the dress. "We will need that back for the future."

Rose flushed a deep – and in the Doctor's opinion, very attractive – red, and turned back to talk to him. "I didn't know I had to give it back," she hissed.

"Neither did I!" the Doctor protested in response, fixing her with a 'you-should-know-better-than-to-rely-on-me-in-these-sorts-of-situations' look.

"Well, what now? All my clothes are over there, and I don't have any others."

Tur'tai cleared his throat meaningfully, and they both turned around to face him again. Seemingly daunted by two sets of eyes looking at him, he glanced down to his clipboard. He then waved a tentacle and, in a puff of smoke, a pile of Rose's clothes appeared on the ground.

Rose blinked down at them, and the Doctor's eyebrows shot to his hairline in mild surprise.

"And there was me thinking you'd have to end up naked," he commented conversationally.

Except... that's not what he meant to say _at all__, _and judging by the awkward air that suddenly sprung up around Rose, it had also been the wrong thing to say.

"Thank you," Rose said, speaking to Tur'Tai again, who seemed to be completely oblivious to what was going on. "I'll... I'll go get changed, then." Crouching down, she scooped up her clothes. She then pushed past the Doctor without looking at him, and disappeared into the bedroom, shutting the door.

"...So!" The Doctor grinned at Tur'tai who, he couldn't be sure, looked as though he was backing away. "What else is there to do on this luxury planet? I know the main things, but... you know, the little extras. Things to keep her happy, and all that." He jerked his head in the direction of the bedroom, before he realised the connotations that could have had.

"Well... that depends," his host replied, seemingly avoiding the topic and shifting from one foot to the other.

"On..." the Doctor prompted.

Tur'tai coughed. "On you. On you both. What you... mean... to each other."

"Ah. Yes, well, Rose and I. Mean a lot to each other, I guess you could say."

"That's not quite my point, Doctor," came the reply, with a knowing smile in the voice.

The Doctor considered him, and felt that slight rise in his heartrates again, as well as a sudden lapse in his temperature control.

"What's going on?" he blurted out before he could stop himself, worry more than anger at the forefront of his mind.

Tur'tai looked at him blankly for a few moments, before replying with a simple, "Excuse me?"

The Doctor, who had had enough of fumbling around the point and wondering when his hormonal system was going to sort itself out, stepped forwards into the lawn and closed the front door, leaving them both in relative privacy.

"Ever since we got here," he continued, rounding on the alien, "I have been feeling increasingly... well, strange!" He flung an arm out in frustration, then began pacing before he could be interrupted. "My heartbeats are irregular, I'm much more affected by heat than I should be, my vision gets cloudy... sometimes I can't even think! So what I'm saying to you, very politely, is _tell me what you've done to me_. Because this certainly isn't right."

A brief silence fell between them, in which the Doctor stopped pacing long enough to notice two things. First, how stifling, suffocatingly hot this planet became at night, and second, that there was a faint noise – some sort of music – chirping in the background: like crickets, but crickets playing in a classical musical concert, with scores and instruments to boot. It was quite beautiful.

It was not, however, helping his mood.

He concentrated his glare on Tur'tai, panting slightly in the heat. Then, reaching to loosen his tie, he added, "Please. I... I don't know what's happening."

Tur'tai gave a slight bow. "It's perfectly natural, Doctor. It is what's supposed to happen."

"Oh, don't go cryptic on me," the Doctor scoffed, trying to ignore the unsettling feeling that he was beginning to sweat at the back of his neck. "I've had enough of- of 'cryptic'. Thank you."

"I mean it," Tur'tai insisted with a laugh. "Did you not read the brochure before you came here?"

The Doctor froze, staring at him. "...What brochure?"

Giving an exaggerated sigh and adjusting his glasses, his host explained. "This is a luxury resort, Doctor, as I imagine you well know. Some come here with their pets, some come here with their friends, and others..."

He paused for, what the Doctor could only assume was, dramatic effect.

"Others?" he prompted, when there didn't seem to be an end to the sentence.

"Others come here with their lovers," he finished bluntly, and he looked pointedly at the Doctor.

"I- But-... What?" the Doctor spluttered, frowning so much that even his cheeks were in on it. "What?" It was insane. This planet was insane! Especially if they thought... well, that. When they'd first arrived, Rose had been mistaken for his pet, for heaven's sake. Now they were calling her his– _"What?"_

"It's quite simple – "

"But... But Rose and I, we're not like that. _I'm_ not like that! We don't... It's not... I..."

Sentence after sentence failed him, ideas and revelations and panic cascading now on him like water in a waterfall.

"It's the mechanics of this planet, Doctor," Tur'tai continued, seemingly surprised that the Doctor hadn't grasped on. "There are energies resonating everywhere, beaming down from the stars and the sky and crossing here, at this point, on Noxis. It says all this in the brochure if you'd like to – "

"Just. Tell me," the Doctor said forcibly, taking deep breaths and trying to calm himself down. "Tell me what it is, what's happening."

"Well, to put it bluntly, all lovers share feelings for each other, Doctor. All the planet does is bring those feelings and thoughts closer to the surface. It's usually the desired effect... I assume not, on you."

"No," he grated out in response, almost through gritted teeth. "Not on me. I'm..." He threw a look back over his shoulder, almost expecting Rose to be standing in the doorway listening. Turning back to Tur'Tai, he lowered his voice consiprationally. "Rose and I aren't like that. Really, we're not. We're just friends, we're just very good... friends."

Tur'tai shrugged. "The planet seems to disagree with you, Doctor."

"But the planet is wrong!" he persisted.

"It can't be!" Tur'tai laughed loudly. "We have no way of controlling it. It's simply the energy in the air working its way through all the foreign life on this planet, making everything that bit more... pleasant. The sounds are brighter, the colours more lucid; it induces you into a state of happiness. And, often in the case of lovers, a state of lus– "

"Yes, thank you, I don't need the details," the Doctor cut across, glaring at him. "And, please, stop calling us that. We're not that. I don't do that, I can't. I _literally_ can't – Well, actually, literally and physically, yes, I _can_, just more often than not I say I can't to get out of doing it, and I have absolutely no idea why I just said that." The words had been out of his mouth before he even knew what he'd been saying. A few seconds of silence ticked by, and the Doctor looked pleadingly to his host who, so it seemed, was the only person who could help him. "What's happening to me?" he asked quietly, a defeated tone in his voice.

"It's the effect of the hormones," Tur'tai said with a sympathetic sigh. "Usually, by now, the... partners... would have long given in to the desire and the hormones would be released. It's not advisable to stockpile them in your body; we've never had it happen before."

Frowning, the Doctor asked, "Stockpiled? What do you mean 'stockpiled'?"

"They build up."

"Well, yes, I got that, thank you, but... but what does that _mean_?"

"With the hormones, Doctor, come the great desire to tell the truth and to admit – well, everything. And the more they're stockpiled and not used up, the greater their potency becomes. Desire will increase, your wish to fight back will diminish, and, with it, your ability to lie. Eventually, I imagine you wont even be in control of yourself at all."

The Doctor stared at him, feeling his face fall. Everything he'd been feeling... He had known there was something wrong with it, but the thought it was all the product of some hormone rather than anything tangible actually made him feel a bit ill. Oh, this planet: rapturous for those who desired the feeling; a nightmare for those who didn't.

"Okay." Right, tackle the problem head on, the practical way. "This feeling – how do I get rid of it?"

"Aside from the obvious," Tur'tai answered, glancing over the cottage, "there is no other way. I told you, Doctor, we aren't in control. It's this planet and its position in the star system that gives it is wonder and its strength. There's nothing you can do."

"But... But can't you turn it off? Or, I don't know, offer protection against it? Anything?"

Tur'tai inclined his head knowledgeably. "Nearly all who come here, Doctor, are after the desired effect. We never need to offer protection."

"Well, perhaps you should change your policies," he all but spat. He then turned on his heel, pressing the base of his hand into the dip of his eye as he tried to think. "Okay. So. Can't stop it. We could leave. Ha!" He turned again, a victorious smile over his face. "We could leave!"

"You signed a contract with us on the day you booked. By law, you are to stay here until your time expires. Which, thanks to the extension you accepted earlier this evening, is another two days."

The Doctor couldn't help feeling that Tur'tai was oddly smug about this. "Tw- two _days_?" he roared in a hushed whisper, very aware that Rose could appear at any second. He stepped towards the alien, attempting to bring himself under control. "I've barely been here _half_ a day and she's already driving me mad! You can't stop us from leaving."

"We have your ship," Tur'tai reminded seriously. "And the only way you can leave is if both of you agree. On your own terms. I have a feeling Rose may want to stay a little longer."

That was the wrong thing to say. The Doctor stepped within mere inches of Tur'tai, his teeth bared in anger. "Don't try my patience," he hissed, his eyes flashing. "You really do not want to see me when I'm angry."

"Doctor," Tur'tai laughed, stepping back and irritatingly unaffected, "we are not here to cause a war or make arguments. No harm will come to you and you are promised a very pleasurable stay."

"You can say that again," he muttered without meaning to. He then let out an agitated groan, and craned his neck back so he could see the sky, in defeat. "See? You can't let me be around Rose and... and say things like that. It isn't gentlemanly."

"It's in your hands, Doctor. All you have to do is act, and the feelings will lessen. For a while."

"But I _can't_ – "

"We've already had this discussion – "

"But Rose and I, we can't do anything like that!" the Doctor protested hotly. "I... She... She'd never forgive me," he added quietly.

Tur'tai frown at him, curiosity getting the better of him. "You must want to," he said obviously. "The energies only work when the feeling is already there. Otherwise, there's nothing to pick up on, and they move on."

The Doctor considered him, defences falling away. "Well... I... Yes, of course I want to," he sighed, giving up. "At least, part of me does. The rebellious part, the... well, the human part, I guess you could say. It does. I do. But I can't. It wouldn't be right. And it _certainly_ wouldn't be right now, with all this – " He waved his in a haphazard motion around his body " – going on. If we ever... I mean, if Rose and I, if we got to that, it would have to be on our own terms. Not a dodgy cocktail of hormones and experiments, or a rescue, or a possession. It would just be... us." In the moonlight, he gave Tur'tai a quiet look. "That's what I want," he finished in a murmur.

Tur'tai nodded. "I understand. In which case, it's imperative that I tell you this. What you feel as a result from being here – you could always feel it, Doctor. You always have, somewhere. It's mixed up in everything else. We may bring it out into the light, but they're still your feelings. We don't meddle with those, that would be against policy. So whatever you're worried about doing, it _will be_ on your own terms. Trust us."

"Looks like I don't have a choice."

The two men studied each other in the different rays of the moons, and a thought suddenly occurred to the Doctor.

"Hang on," he said, frowning slightly, "why isn't Rose affected by all this? She certainly doesn't seem anywhere near as... well, yes." He coughed down the end of his sentence.

"For some reason, the energies only work on the males of the species," Tur'tai said, with confusion in his own voice. "We have yet to figure out why."

The Doctor almost snorted. "Rose and I aren't even the same species, but I suppose that doesn't make a different."

"No," Tur'tai smiled. "Feelings are feelings, in whatever form they take."

"Thank you, Yoda."

"Yoda?" He looked at the Doctor, questioningly.

"Never mind. I should... I should probably..."

He pointed back towards the door.

His host nodded once again, and the Doctor started back. "Oh, by the way," he added, turning again, "seeing as I'm stuck here for a couple of days, just what is there to _do_ on this planet? Aside from eating. And walking."

Tur'tai chuckled. "I'll visit you tomorrow with a list of your itinerary. Goodnight, Doctor."

"Yes. Same to you."

He pushed the front door and stepped inside the cottage, leaving it ajar slightly for Rose when she came out. Shaking his head, the Doctor went to sit in one of the chairs in the living room. He wasn't sure how he felt about everything going on, about the way he was acting towards Rose, but at least now he had answers – even if they were answers he didn't want to hear.

Okay, so if he didn't 'give in' he could well be a walking wreck by the end of this trip, but that was bearable, wasn't it? Far more bearable than the alternative, of letting himself go, taking Rose into his arms, running his hands over her body, feeling the – No. Not going there.

Turkeys, he thought, think about turkeys. Turkeys were innocuous, fine to think about when avoiding... other thoughts.

The Doctor sighed and sat back into the chair. He couldn't escape the horrible feeling that he was somehow doomed.


	5. Parts Unsaid

**Author's Note**: This prompt given to me by scifi girl 08. I already have the next one in mind, so let's see where it leads ;)

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Five: Parts Unsaid

**Whim  
**noun  
_1. A sudden or capricious idea, a fancy;  
__2. Arbitrary thought or impulse._

It took all the reservation Rose had not to slam the door to the bedroom behind her. She didn't know what the Doctor thought he was playing at, but if he thought she was going to let him use her as a pawn in his game, he had another think coming.

She angrily snatched up her jeans and slid them on underneath the dress, making the red, shimmery fabric crumple at her waist.

"Stupid Time Lord," she muttered, jumping slightly to fit into her trousers. "Thinks he can just waltz about having no clue how I feel. What a – "

She bit off the end of her sentence in case he was still in the living room and could hear her every word. Standing still, she listened for the sound of voices. When she was met with silence, she sighed and sat down on the large double bed next to the pile of her clothes.

"This is stupid," she admitted with a laugh. "We're both adults. I'm sure we can sort this out." She wondered about talking to him, but realised that she would have no idea what to say. What _did_ you say to someone, an alien no less, who up until recently seemed to have no sexual interest in you (despite admitting he 'danced') but was suddenly all smouldering gazes and cool hands?

Rose shuddered just thinking about it, and attempted to get that part of the Doctor out of her mind, where he was persistently trying to remain. The man she had been spending the day with was certainly not the same man she'd sauntered up to earlier in the TARDIS, that was for sure.

Either that or he was, and was just _really_ good at hiding it.

Giving a frustrated groan, she flung herself backwards and lay on the bed, dressed half in trousers, half in the dress. This was ridiculous. The Doctor didn't do holidays, as a rule, and Rose was beginning to figure out why. If he acted like this every time they took a breather, well, they wouldn't leave the TARDIS.

She blushed at the thought and smirked a little, enjoying the images flashing into her mind. Then she sighed irritably through her nose and sat up. It wasn't fair, what he was doing to her. If he wasn't interested, fine, she could live with that. She'd spent half her time in secondary school getting over a boy who never even knew she existed, so a Time Lord was theoretically no different. However, if he was playing mind games with her, she wouldn't be able to cope.

"One or the other," she hissed to the non-existent Doctor in the room as she reached over for her t-shirt. "You can't have both. Can't have your cake _and_ eat it."

Problem was, she had no idea how to tell him. It wasn't as though she could wander up to him and say, 'either shag me or stop pretending you want to', was it? For a start, that wasn't the sort of language she'd ever dream of using around the Doctor. In fact, just the thought of him saying it nearly made her laugh. It was far too human.

So that meant she had to wait until he did something. Because, Rose admitted to herself, a tiny part of her was scared that she was still imagining it and that really, he wasn't being out-of-the-ordinary at all. The embarrassment she would suffer if she called him on something he didn't feel would be insufferable. She'd probably have to leave.

Rose peeled the dress up over her head, splaying it out on the bed before she reached for her bra. She tried to ignore the thoughts about the Doctor dressing her (or even undressing) which were currently bombarding her, and quickly got on with changing. Then, folding the dress, she put it back on the bed and walked over to the window.

The moons were huge in the sky. One of them filled almost an entire quarter of it, while the other two flanked it at its sides. The light was gentle and serene, and Rose smiled at how truly beautiful it was here. Whether or not the Doctor was acting strangely, she was pleased he'd brought her here, to a planet with a name that was easy to pronounce.

Then she frowned. She could hear voices drifting across the lawns, from what must have been the front of the house. There were no glass in these windows, so she could hear every word quite crisply. The Doctor sounded like he was ranting, and Rose smiled with affection when she pictured him.

Then his words started to have an impact and she shuffled forward slightly, listening.

"But Rose and I, we can't do anything like that!" She frowned harder, wondering why he was talking about her and why he sounded so agitated. "I... She... She'd never forgive me."

Interested, Rose tried to imagine what he was talking about. Had he something planned, but changed his mind since dinner? Were they trying to force him to do something he didn't want to do.

Tur'tai's reply surprised her, and only made her wonder all the more. "You must want to. The energies only work when the feeling is already there. Otherwise, there's nothing to pick up on, and they move on."

She heard the Doctor sigh, as though he'd just been beaten down. "Well... I... Yes, of course I want to."

_Want to what_? her mind asked, but she beat the question down, listening and not entirely sure she wanted to.

"At least, part of me does. The rebellious part, the... well, the human part, I guess you could say. It does. I do. But I can't. It wouldn't be right. And it _certainly_ wouldn't be right now, with all _this _going on. If we ever... I mean, if Rose and I, if we got to that, it would have to be on our own terms. Not a dodgy cocktail of hormones and experiments, or a rescue, or a possession. It would just be... us."

There was a pause, and Rose licked her lips nervously. It was possible the Doctor was talking about something completely innocent that had very little to do with her. Anything was possible. But she couldn't escape the nagging thought in the back of her mind that told her it was more than that.

He said something else, but it was quiet and she missed it. She backed away from the window and sat on the bed again, letting out the breath she'd been holding and frowning with thought. He sounded like a man who was desperate about something, that much was obvious.

What he'd said about experiments worried her. Had he found out that they were part of a hoax, a trick, something in the name of science? Somehow, she knew that wasn't it, but she couldn't put her finger on what she was supposed to be seeing.

Deciding that she had had quite enough of dropping eaves, Rose scooped the dress up into her arms and stepped over to the door. Lifting up the sliver of metal that served as a latch, she pulled it open and stepped into the sweltering living room. The heat from the night had snuck in and mingled with the fire, and her body almost instantly broke out into a sweat.

The Doctor looked up from a chair by the fire and nodded to her over steepled fingers. She attempted a smile at him before making her way to the front door.

Outside, in the warm air and cool moonlight, Rose shyly approached Tur'tai, holding the dress out like a peace offering.

"Sorry," she mumbled, ducking her head slightly. "For running off with it, I mean."

"It's no problem," Tur'tai said kindly as he took it from her. "I was able to have a chat with the Doctor."

"Yeah, I heard."

The words were out of her mouth before she'd had time to correct her brain, and her eyes widened.

Tur'tai laughed. He then became serious, and gazed up into the sky. "If that's the case, do you want to go home, Rose?"

"No!" she said immediately, attempting to clutch one of his tentacles. "I mean... I like it here. Love it here. If... Does the Doctor want to go?"

"He's confused at the moment, I think. But fear not, all will become clear." Rose frowned at him, confusion lacing her features. Tur'tai chuckled. "Go back inside. Get a good night's sleep. You'll know what he wants by the time you leave."

She turned without word and began to walk slowly back to the cottage, glancing once over her shoulder to see Tur'tai wandering away. Breathing heavily, she opened the door and stepped inside the living room to find the Doctor still sitting in his armchair.

"I'm going to bed," she announced, and he simply nodded.

"Okay. Sleep well."

Frowning, she crossed the room and sat pointedly down in the sofa, staring at him.

His eyes flicked to her and his eyebrows rose. He lowered his hands. "Ah," he said, drawing out the sound like a breath. "Not bed, then."

"What's wrong with you?" she asked, ignoring his flippancy. There was, after all, one way she could get an answer out of him, and that was to dance around the point, the way they always did.

"Me? Nothing," he covered quickly, in the way which always meant there was something wrong.

Their gaze met, and Rose felt her spine tingle. His face was relaxed, but there warning dancing in his eyes and a very serious, intense message he was trying to get across to her.

"I... I thought..." She fiddled with her hands and dropped her gaze to the floor, listening to the gentle crackle of the fire that seemed to never go out. Her nerve for this conversation dissipated, and she sighed. "Must just be tired," she mumbled. She then stood, nodding her head in the direction of the bedroom. "I'll be in there, if you want me."

Their gaze caught once again, unsaid words and a few new boundaries sizzling in the brief second, and then Rose looked away and stalked towards the door, leaving the Doctor alone with his thoughts.

It was later, when she was lying awake but still underneath the covers, that she felt the bed sag underneath his weight and her heart gave a little flutter.

"Rose," he whispered, in that tone that always drove her crazy, and she held her breath. "I think I'm about to do something very stupid."

**End this Part**


	6. Confronting the id :and losing:

**Author's Note**: Okay, I tried to avoid it, but I couldn't. Smutty content in this chapter, so **rating has gone up to an M**. Consider this your warning :D

* * *

Six: Confronting the ID (and losing)

**Indulge  
**verb  
_1 . To give free rein to; to take unrestrained pleasure in; gratify.  
2 . To yield to the desire of; to treat with excessive leniency, generosity, or consideration._

The Doctor paced the living room impatiently, running a hand through his hair. This was ridiculous, it was utterly ridiculous. He should leave, he should just up and go and be done with all this childish nonsense that was supposed to be beneath him. The conversation with Tur'tai kept looping in his mind, and he was pleased Rose had gone to bed: at the very least at least he didn't have to deal with her actual presence.

No, all he had to deal with now was knowing that how he was feeling wasn't going to get any better. In fact, that it was going to get worse. He had no idea how, exactly, it could get worse – as it was he was almost in pain if they spent too much time in close proximity – but he was sure that worse would mean doing very stupid and foolish things that he didn't want to do.

Or rather, things he didn't want to do right now.

Even that was a thought fuelled by the energies, the Doctor knew. Even his own thinking process was tainted with the edges of lust, and it made the actual act of thinking very difficult indeed.

"I'm going to die," the Doctor groaned aloud, then wondered if it were technically possible. He hoped it was, because given the choice, he really would rather die – or perhaps just regenerate – than do anything stupid with Rose.

Perhaps, he decided, he should go out for a walk. A nice long walk in the cool night air, away from Rose, might do him some good. It might even, heaven forbid, clear his head.

But then he cast a glance to the bedroom door, and a protectiveness he couldn't quite explain came over him. If he left he would be leaving Rose vulnerable. He didn't really trust the people here as it was, so perhaps he had better go in and tell her... just tell her he was going for a walk, that he needed to check something on the TARDIS. Hopefully she would be half asleep and wouldn't notice the blatant lie.

He knocked gently on the door, but there wasn't an answer. So, without thinking much on it, he opened the door and walked in.

He instantly knew it was a mistake. For starters, pheromones hit him like a brick wall. Rose was a woman, so that wasn't unusual in itself. What _was_ unusual was how strong they were, how they seemed to drift through the air and trap him up, enticing him to step gently into the room an close the door behind him, throwing the room into darkness. So much for his walk, then.

His vision almost become clouded he felt so overwhelmed, and he had to swallow for confidence while he remembered how to breathe.

"Rose?" he asked shakily.

The noise he got in response, a sort of half-moan half-grunt, made him wonder just how asleep he was.

Reminding himself that she was his companion and it was his job to care for her in a completely platonic way, he crossed the room and crouched down next to Rose. Moonlight filtered in from behind curtains, and as his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he could slowly make out the defining features of her face.

"Rose," he said again, whispering this time, and she stirred. Her eyes were closed, but she almost looked as though she were concentrating, like she was having a bad dream.

The Doctor paused, a thought he wasn't sure he liked occurring to him. It was usually very unlike him to want to violate her privacy, but something strong in his conscious was tugging at him and telling him she needed him. The only other time he'd really tried anything like this was with Reinette, but... somehow this felt entirely different.

He hesitated, casting a glance of Rose's features once more. Her face began to tighten slightly, as though in pain, and when she moaned in discomfort he decided that if she were having a nightmare of any kind, the least he could do would be to calm her so she could get a decent night's sleep. He raised a hand slowly to her temple, still not one hundred percent sure about the idea, but knowing there was no way he would be able to pull out now.

Licking his lips nervously, he touched his fingers to her skin, exhaling loudly as he slid into her mind.

Sensations instantly rocketed through his body, and they weren't the sort of sensations he usually put down to nightmares. He had to hold in a groan as, from nowhere, he had a sudden, strong desire to do very bad things to Rose indeed.

This was new, and it also wasn't good. Up until now he could have managed. The tension was tighter than a stretched elastic band and his clothes often felt restrictive, but at least previously it had just been a concoction of feelings. Now he was getting images flashing through his mind of exactly the sorts of things he wanted to do to Rose, right down to the last fingertip.

He closed his eyes, wishing that he could just pull out of her mind but knowing he was far too hooked to do so. She stirred beneath his fingers and moaned again, and he realised how very stupid, and very naïve, he had been. Had he had enough of his brain left to think, he might have wondered why Rose had been dreaming about him in ways he never imagined she would... but as it was he was subjected to feeling wave after wave of a kind of intense pleasure he hadn't felt in years.

The images in his mind suddenly became crystal clear, tearing him away from reality and into dreams, and he was no longer crouching next to Rose, but lying next to her, blowing hot trails of air across her neck. Across her very naked and very exposed neck, which was no different to the rest of her.

Oh... balls, he might have thought, had he not been totally taken by the temptation of rapture.

"I've wanted to do this ever since we got here," he said but didn't, and a new kind of excitement thrummed through him when Rose opened her eyes. Her irises were a swirling mass of aroused colour, her lashes thick in the darkness.

"Yeah?" she breathed huskily, and the Doctor's hand – quite by itself – moved to rest above her belly.

"Oh, yes," he clarified, raising his hand so just his fingertips teased her skin. He began to drift his hand slowly up and down her torso, enjoying the way she arched her body up into his touch. "Well, since before then, really. Sometimes it's been so very difficult not to think about you, Rose..."

His hand drifted lightly up to the rise of her breasts, circling the sensitive area. As Rose let out a shuddered breath, the Doctor realised that this must be her fantasy, not his. Which would make sense, this was her dream (and what a dream it was), and no matter how intoxicated he was by it, it was _her_ subconscious controlling him, not his.

Which, had he the strength to think about it, would probably have made him feel a bit better about the fact his fingers were currently running softly over her steadily-tightening nipples, back and forth from one to the other, with the air of a man who had all the time in the world.

"Shoulda – done this a long – time ago," Rose said through broken breaths as he began to move his middle and index fingers in a rhythmic, circular pattern over her right nipple.

The Doctor chuckled, his breath blowing across her face. "And you would have loved it, I suppose," he murmured slowly, adding more pressure to his fingers, "if you'd woken up in the middle of the night to find me exploring you. Imagine that, Rose, to be woken up to the feel of a hand working its way down your body..."

Matching his hand to the movements he was describing, he smirked when Rose moaned quietly. Apparently, the him in her mind was rather good at what he did.

"Please," she begged in a whisper, and her hand came up to control his, encouraging it further down to the curls between her legs.

He didn't fight her, enjoying the masses of sensations that touching Rose in this way was giving him. Part of him, somewhere in the exterior world, was aware of how wrong this should be. But with her warmth and her smell surrounding him, making him dizzy with desire, there was no way he could go back before he had seen to Rose.

Without any further coaxing, he slid his fingers down, running them gently over her entrance and then all the way up to her clit. He repeated this movement a few times, gentle strokes to match the rhythm Rose was beginning to make against his hand. He then settled his fingers right at the top of her folds and, slowly, began to rotate his finger.

Rose moaned loudly, her head falling right back into the pillow and her mouth opening just a touch. The Doctor watched her, fascinated, as she continued to react to his movements. He added slightly more pressure and sped up, immensely taken with the noises he got as reward.

Moving his hand slightly, he let his thumb take over the work from his fingers as he pushed his hands further down.

"I never knew you were so susceptible," he joked smoothly as he slid a finger inside her, almost moaning himself at the way it disappeared into her warm wetness. A second finger shortly followed the first, pushing up deep into her, and by complex movement of his hand he set up a rhythm that Rose's body could match.

He increased the pace, smiling as Rose's breathing started to become erratic, and he whispered encouragement quietly into her ear.

The next moan was strangled, drawn out, and he took advantage of the sudden tensing in her body to circle his thumb perfectly around her clit in hard strokes, sliding his fingers gently in and out of her while he did so.

"My girl," he purred while she moved to the rhythm of his hand, and in the final few thrusts of his thumb, Rose came with an array of shattering cries. The Doctor hushed her gently, bringing her down slowly from the brink of orgasm by slowing the movements of his hand until, finally, she lay still, panting heavily.

He drew his hand out of her slowly, wetness coating his fingers, and suddenly the scenario disappeared.

The Doctor was crouching in the cool room, his hand lowered from Rose's temple and his hearts racing. What in the name of all things pure had he just done? Sweat coated his forehead, but a strong shiver suddenly went through him at the realisation of what Rose and he had just been through.

Nothing, technically, it was her dream – whether he had been consciously in it or not wouldn't have changed things. Or at least, for her it wouldn't have changed things. For him it changed rather a lot, and the dreaded sense of fear that came with thinking that that's how Rose saw him...

He got to his feet abruptly, clenching and unclenching his fists. Right, he decided, that was it. Enough was enough, and he would allow it to go no further than that – and that was already too far. He was not some sort of crazed sex-driven monster, even if Rose's subconscious, and the rest of the planet, thought he was. He was a Time Lord, for pity's sake, and when he "danced", he meant it.

_If_ – and that was a very big 'if' – anything happened with Rose, it would be a natural progression of themselves, nothing extra thrown in to complicate things. He, the Doctor, the man who made worlds crumble, was definitely more than a quick shag in a hotel bedroom.

...The fact that he was even thinking in these terms made him want to hide himself far away in the deep dark corners of the TARDIS, reading great big boring books and causing harm to nobody. As it was, he had to settle for leaving the bedroom in quietened anger and spending the rest of the night in the sitting room, staring into the fire and wondering exactly how he was going to get through the next two days.

Regeneration, he decided, was fast becoming his best option for escape. And, under absolutely no circumstances, was he to be let anywhere near Rose while she was sleeping again. Trouble was, after tonight, he had the most horrible feeling that things were going to get worse and worse.


End file.
